


Veritaserum Summer

by smallbrownfrog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Death Fix, Character Study, Community: hptimetravel, F/M, Genderbending (in the sense of gender fluidity -- not gender swap), HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Polyamory, Post - Deathly Hallows, References to Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallbrownfrog/pseuds/smallbrownfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over and Harry’s friends are all working towards their futures, but Harry is not doing well at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HP/SS and HP/GW, past SS/RB, with various friends and acquaintances. The story is mostly PG with a splash of R. It can be read as a stand alone, but I have plans to continue their story.
> 
> "Veritaserum Summer" was written for the 2012 HP Time Travel Fest. Thank you to L for the S&G. Thank you to freakingcrups for first cheerleading and then going beyond the call of duty by offering to beta when I needed help. And a huge thank you to the mods for the extension.

May 2nd, 2000

It was well after dark when Harry came walking slowly down the lane towards home. He was trying to remember the words of a song from the ceremony, but couldn't quite find them and was settling for singing "Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind"; then humming for a bit and starting over.

Harry fumbled with the door in the cold London dark. He was starting to think he'd had just a little too much firewhiskey. He wanted to collapse into the warm bed that was waiting for him inside.

He sketched a tired Lumiosa before freezing in confusion. An odd pile of crumpled black sheets was dumped in the entry hall. Somehow the floor was smudged with red paint.

"Hello? Is somebody here? Kreacher? Is this stuff yours?"

The answering silence swallowed Harry's words and left him standing there befuddled. Then, sudden as a strobe light, everything came into intense focus. The shadows were drawn sharp as knives. Colors as strong as pools of dye. Black. Red. White. A body. It was a body. Collapsed like rags it was...

...Snape?

Snape's face was hardly recognizable as a face, it was so white and strange. The black background of his robes had even deeper flowers of black blooming on it, that Harry gradually realized were blood. Only the bright red gash of his throat showed any sign of life as it slowly leaked onto his clothes.

Harry struggled to understand. The war was over. The nightmares had passed. Surely his grasp on reality was better than this? Yet there on the floor was Snape. Certain he was dreaming or mad, Harry began the rituals of wartime first aid.  
~~~

Harry sighed in exhaustion as the last healing spell rolled off his wand. He hunched down by Snape. An empty potion bottle rocked gently back and forth as he nudged it with his shoe. "Let's get you to St. Mungo's" he said. He started to lift him and then laughed at himself when he realized he'd forgotten the featherlight charm.

The body in his arms moved, twisted, and then Snape was gasping "No. Don't. Not there. Please." He clutched at Harry and at first Harry tried to pull back, but that seemed to agitate Snape all the more. He'd got Harry's robe in his fists and red foam was sudsing his throat as he said "Please."

"Shh," said Harry. "It's ok. We'll stay here. It's ok. I promise."

It seemed to be the right thing to do, because Snape quit fighting him, quit trying to talk, and just nodded before laying his head down again.

Harry stared at Snape, at the empty dittany bottles rolling round the hall, at the blood on his own hands. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

For a second Harry thought he'd asked this out loud. He looked down at Snape, but no response would be coming from there. His mouth hung slack and a thin trail of pink drool had begun working its way down his jaw.

"Bloody hell" said Harry. That at least needed no reply.

He was tired and he was not sure what to do next. Hermione would know what to do. Yes, that was it. Hermione. Harry reached deep within himself for a memory of happiness. For a moment nothing happened, then he felt his patronus forming. "Ron. Hermione. I need you," he told the silver stag, then watched as it galloped through the wall with the speed of thought.

Now he just needed to wait in the drawing room. He could do that. It would only be a matter of hanging on for a few minutes and then they would be the indestructible trio again.

Fifteen minutes later Hermione's sleepy face looked out of the fireplace. "Do you have any idea what time it is Harry? Some of us have to get up in the morning."

"Sleep it off and call us tomorrow mate," said Ron's voice from behind her.

"Honestly Harry. We've had it. We understand you're going through a rough patch, but patronus calls are not for saying you're a bit blue."

"It's the middle of the bloody night. Take a fucking sober-up potion and a dreamless sleep and come talk to us over supper. I've got class in the morning and Hermione's got work."

"Well, fuck" said Harry, as Hermione's image disappeared into the flames. "Bugger me dry."

He continued to stare at the fire for a minute before pulling himself up off the floor onto a chair. He just needed to think for a minute, get his head straight. Relax Harry, you can do this. You don't need them.  
~~~

Harry startled at the loud pop of something shifting inside the fire and realized he had slept. His neck hurt from falling asleep in the stiff drawing room chair and it was hard to straighten his head.

"Honestly Harry. What are we going to do with you?"

He forced his head up part of the way and looked at an exasperated Hermione just as she hit him with a healing spell.

"Hold still and quit making that face. I'll do a loosening charm on your neck. Now let’s get you some lunch -- or breakfast by the looks of it, and you can tell me what was so important that you had to wake us up in the middle of the night."

"You aren't going to believe this, Hermione. I don't know what the hell happened, but come and take a look."

He was right. She didn't believe it. It took four spells and some serious pacing before she admitted that the unconscious man on the hallway floor was Severus Snape, two years late for his own funeral.

They had gotten Snape squared away into a spare bed and Hermione had performed a number of healing spells on Snape, before she said, "Ok, now lunch, and you can tell me why there's a dead man living in your house and why he's here and not at St. Mungo's."

"I'm still trying to figure it all out, Hermione. I was hoping you and Ron would help me understand what happened."

So he told her about coming home to a bloody, babbling Snape. Hermione asked all sorts of questions he couldn't answer. Apparently he hadn't paid attention to anything or at least to none of the right things, and he felt more and more foolish as she kept asking questions.

"Are you sure you didn't cast any spells or see any magic at all? There's something missing here. Something we're not seeing."

Harry looked down at his fish and chips, like they might hold the answers Hermione was looking for. Finally he shrugged and said, “I don't know how I'm supposed to tell you what I didn't see."

Hermione's eyes got big and she said, "Of course! A pensieve! We can take a look and see what you didn't see. Ron should be coming home from class pretty soon. I'll owl him and ask him if he can borrow one of the practice pensieves from the teacher and we'll work on this over supper. Kreacher's still at Hogwarts, right? So I'll go grab some groceries and some more dittany. We'll suss out what's going on."

Harry felt better already.  
~~~

After supper they owled Kreacher to have him come keep an eye on Snape. Then the three of them gathered around the pensieve. It was a cheap disposable model with student graffiti scratched and inked onto every available surface. They watched Harry's discovery of Snape twice through. Hermione filled a piece of parchment with notes but Harry thought she looked as puzzled as he felt. When they came out of the memory, the three of them sat in silence. Harry hoped the other two were having deep thoughts because he had no idea how to proceed.

Ron had brought one of his law enforcement textbooks and sat flipping through it until he got to a page so dense with scribbled notes, underlines, and charmlighting that Harry wondered if any of the original text could actually be read. Ron muttered to himself under his breath as he ran his finger down the page. Sometimes Harry wondered if he was trying to show the rest of them that he could measure up to Hermione's academic brilliance. Merlin knew Hermione had married him for so many other reasons, but Ron never really seemed to believe that was enough.

"Ok," said Ron. We need to go back further. What did you do before you got home?"

"That's silly. I was at the war memorial," said Harry. "You guys saw me at the remembrance ceremony."

"And where were you after that?"

"I had a drink with George."

"And then?"

"Then I came home."

Ron chewed on his knuckle as he consulted his textbook again. "We'll start with the close of the war remembrance ceremony. Harry, can you put it in the pensieve?"

Harry wanted to tell him to knock off the police inspector act so they could pick Hermione's brains again, but Ron was his friend so he said nothing. Instead he rested his wand against his forehead and pulled out the thin wisp of memory.

The three fell into the very end of a sunny day where a vast crowd stood quietly on the green Hogwarts grounds. The faint smell of woodsmoke curled through the air and mixed with the brisk wind coming off the lake.

"Ok," Ron told Harry "You focus on yourself and watch him carefully. Hermione and I will watch the people around you."

Harry felt like he should apologize to all the people around him for interrupting their memorial day, but of course nobody took note of him and he quashed the foolish urge. His memory self was clearly not listening to the distant speaker who was praising the bravery of all those who had fallen in battle. Instead yesterday's Harry was studying the ground at his feet and seemed deep in some sad thought of his own. Next to him were George and Arthur who were fighting back tears.

As the speech ended and the crowd began to scatter, Harry watched George pull him aside. "I don't know about you but I could do with a pint. Bloody tossers who never even met him saying why he died."

Yesterday's Harry nodded and in a moment the two were heading across the lawn. Around them bonfires were beginning to be lit in memory of the dead and people were settling in for the night's vigil.

George towed Harry over to a group of students who were passing around a badly hidden bottle as they tended their fire. Smiling a manic smile, George pulled out a jug of his own and held it aloft saying, "My friends I give you the Everflowing Jug guaranteed to last as long as the night does."

"Brilliant!" said a voice in the crowd as George took a long drink and handed the jug on with a flourish. People talked and told stories about the dead. Some quietly fed letters or gifts into the fire to be carried up into the sky on the night wind. After a while the songs started up, ballads and campfire songs and at least one really inappropriate drinking song.

As Hermione took notes and Ron stared like he was watching a movie, Harry saw himself go from quiet to talkative to tipsy to an arm-waving gesturing fool. He tried to remember how late he had stayed. Embarrassingly he had no clue.

And then when memory-Harry finally did get up, it was to wander into the castle, not to go home. The halls seemed utterly deserted. Even the portrait frames were empty.

Harry seemed to be trying random doors as he almost staggered through the halls. When one actually swung open he fell gracelessly into the room and sat in a little heap in the dark.

"I don't think we're going to see anything in here," said Hermione.

"Maybe we missed something earlier," said Ron. "Harry, have you noticed anything?"

Harry didn't think this was the time to say he didn't even know what he was looking for, but he was saved from having to admit this by Hermione's sudden "Oh!" Harry looked from side to side in the wooly dark, trying to see what had made Hermione gasp. Against one of the dim walls was a shimmery piece of light. As Harry's eyes adjusted he realized it was a large mirror.

Memory-Harry's eyes must have been adjusting right along with theirs because he crawled up to the mirror and put his hands on it. "Why are you here to make me want things, mirror? Don’t you know that’s no good?" 

Within the mirror, a shadowy crowd of figures grew, with here or there a face suddenly bright and distinct. Harry thought he saw Fred's orange hair and prankster's smile go flashing by and he could swear it was Hedwig circling over Dumbledore's crazy hat.

“What are you both seeing?” whispered Ron. “Did -- did you...”

Hermione reached out and took Ron’s hand. “Yes, I saw Fred. He looked happy. They all look happy. Did you see Tonks too?”

Ron said, “I don’t understand. We shouldn’t all be seeing the same thing.”

But then the image blurred and rippled like a pond in the rain. For a moment the mirror was only a mirror. Then a new picture formed filling the mirror. Limp black hair straggled around an angular face cut from butter and chalk. Black eyes stared out of the mirror.

Harry heard a little “whuff” of breath from Ron and he was dimly aware that Hermione had stopped taking notes. The room crackled with the electric feel of gathering magic and he could feel his hair standing on end. The air gave a high-pitched whine and memory-Harry slumped over against the suddenly empty mirror. Harry heard himself begin to snore.

“I think you passed out, mate,” said Ron.

“Oh Harry,” said Hermione in a disappointed voice. But then she seemed to brighten and said, “At least we know who brought Professor Snape back. I wonder if something like this is covered in _A History of Magic_ or maybe Cornive’s book on artifacts. I didn’t think the theory worked this way but...”

Harry wasn’t really listening as his feet lifted off the ground and he returned to the real world. His mind was filled with the vision of that pale, still face looking quietly back at him.  
~~~


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Harry couldn't stop humming silly songs while he brushed his teeth. It was impossible to laugh and brush his teeth at the same time, but Harry gave it a valiant try. Everything was so funny and wonderful. He felt like a giant muggle soda that somebody'd shaken, all fizzy and bubbly and ready to explode with joy.

He had rescued Snape, Snape who was on their side, Snape who had cared about him but could not show it. He had set it right. It would all be good. He would get to meet the real Snape. Hermione’s potions would heal him and it would all be so good.

He had too much joy in his body to stay still. The stairs were an invitation to run, bannisters begged to be slid down. Finally he grabbed his broom, thudded down the stairs and out the door and exploded up into the sky.

Only after he was miles away did he realize he had forgotten to check for muggles. Somehow even that was funny.

~~~  
Slowly that initial euphoria faded as the days went by and Snape remained awkwardly unconscious. Hermione had carefully reviewed Arthur Weasley’s medical records and swore she was following the same protocol that had worked for Arthur. She never mentioned the key difference: that Snape had lain untreated for an unknown amount of time, some of it while Harry was soused. Harry was all too aware of his friend’s careful silence. Sometimes he wished she would just yell at him.

Through it all Harry continued to insist that St. Mungo’s was not an option. He had promised Snape. That was all that mattered.

Ron told Harry, “He’s a nasty, stubborn git when he’s healthy. Of course he’s a nasty, stubborn git when he’s sick. He’ll wake up when he decides to. He’s probably just in a sulk now that he can’t give you detention anymore.”

Not even Ginny had badgered Harry about Snape. He’d expected to get hexed when she came home for a visit and found Snape in her house. Instead she’d just laughed.

“Harry, some days you are such a mugglehead. I grew up with a ghoul in the attic. I’m pretty sure I can handle a Snape in the spare bedroom. Just no flying piranhas. Fred got those once. It took weeks to get them out of all the cupboards.”  
~~~

Sometimes Harry sat with Snape. He knew Snape couldn’t hear him, but he found himself talking just the same. He apologized for all the times he had doubted him. He talked about the war. He just talked.

He told Snape about Grimmauld Place and how he still felt that the house was not really his. He and Ginny had started slowly working through it room by room. It had been Ginny's idea to donate the things they didn't want to a charity auction. They'd found some fabulous old gowns in the attic, so old they must be held together by dust and magic, and Ginny had declared some of the robes "so naff they're amazing." There was a family of mechanical mice that chanted wizarding nursery stories in odd high-pitched little voices. Harry's favorite, though, was an antique quidditch uniform of a color worn by no known team.

He read the quidditch scores out loud, scanning the sports news for the name Ginny Potter. He explained the nasty way the society page writer covered her every move while the sports reporter mostly ignored her. He missed seeing her while the team traveled, but going to matches only made it worse, with himself on the front page and a lot of society page blather about their relationship. So whenever Harry saw Ginny’s name in the sports section he clipped it out and owled it to her, hoping she understood.

He talked to Snape about the pressure to do something with his life. Whenever anybody asked, he said he wanted to be an auror; and he did. He really planned to apply when Ron did. And of course it was a given that Shacklebolt would accept him into the auror training program. Heck, if Shacklebolt got any more obvious about wanting him to apply, the man would be filling his application out for him.

It was just that he had no urge to do any of it today. Sure there were dark wizards to hunt down and scary artifacts to round up and people to protect, but he was pretty sure there would be dark wizards to chase down next year and the year after. They weren't about to go away.

Everyone around him just seemed to have so much energy. Ginny was doggedly plugging along as a second-string quidditch player. Ron was studying Magical Law Enforcement with the hope that a decent showing would get him into the auror training program and make up for his NEWTS. Hermione had so many odd jobs, Harry had long since lost track of them all as she saved up for her next round of schooling.

Snape’s lack of response to any of this was oddly comforting. It made Harry feel that he wasn’t the only one without a direction.

Surprisingly, Kreacher also spent a lot of time with Snape. The first time Ron and Harry caught him changing the bandages, Ron demanded that Kreacher explain what he was doing.

Kreacher looked away and muttered, “Kreacher knows how to take care of Severus. Master Regulus always said Kreacher did a good job looking after his Severus.”

After Kreacher had padded out the door, Harry said, “I think you hurt his feelings.”

“Bloody house elf is a menace. I don’t care if he is nicer now. He’s still completely mad. Does he think you’re Regulus now?”

Harry just shrugged and said, “He isn’t doing any harm.”

“Well, just keep him away from my neck.”

As day followed day and week followed week, Snape continued to lie unconscious. Harry began to forget for whole hours at a time that he was waiting for Snape to wake up. There didn’t seem to be any urgency. Snape was just part of the house.  
~~~

_Severus woke to the feel of a strange bed beneath him. Actually everything was strange. Nothing would hold still when he looked at it. Objects blended and blurred like watercolors. The green walls swayed in and out like a breathing thing._

_He tried by force of will to pin them in place and make them hold still, but only achieved a terrible ache behind his eyes. Severus let his eyelids fall shut to try to lessen the pain and focus his thoughts. The shrieking shack wasn't green. Where was he? Was it better to appear awake or unconscious?_

_Being awake might make him subject to questioning, or arrest, or torturing. But he didn't think he could pull off a convincing enough act of unconsciousness. He'd be caught the first time somebody thought to try a medical scan._

_Severus had just decided on acting confused or delirious when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He carefully felt for his occlumency shields. Their invisible strength was the only thing he could count on._

_He opened his eyes as vague shapes loomed over him. He couldn't help straining to bring the shifting blurs into focus, though he knew it would do no good. He forced an undignified moan to his lips, and whimpered, "More water mother?" Please let that look sufficiently delusional and pathetic._

_"Professor? Can you hear me?"_

_Potter? Salazar's snake, this couldn't be good._

_"Professor?" asked a second voice._

_"I don't think he's really awake, Hermione."_

_So, Potter and the Granger twit._

_"I think we should still talk to him just in case. _Colby’s Advanced Guide to Healing_ says even unresponsive patients can sometimes hear things around them."_

_"Professor, this is Harry Potter. You're getting private medical care and you're safe now. We know you were a hero, Sir. We'll take care of you."_

_Something didn't make sense. Severus tried to think what was wrong, but he was too tired and the pieces of his brain didn't seem to fit together right. When a sleeping spell washed over him he gratefully let go of the puzzle and drifted gently away into the dark._  
~~~

_Severus groaned softly as he woke and looked at the bedroom. His eyes had quit playing tricks on him, and he slowly took in the thick green bed curtains, dark wood trim, and beautifully carved furniture. He knew every worn spot on those green and silver walls. The universe must have a truly cruel sense of humour to have put him back in Regulus’ room. Oh well, he was used to its jokes by now._

_He felt like he should be in hospital, but now while Potter was gone was his chance to find out if he could walk. He couldn’t waste it. He would just have to hope the boy was too stupid to be monitoring the room. Reaching an arm out to brace himself made him gasp as fire raced down his neck and chest. "Only pain. Only pain," he chanted in his head. He worked at maneuvering himself off the bed, but then something gave in his throat and he tasted blood._

_Severus slumped back. Salazar's balls, he was trapped. Who knew what the Potter creature would do to him and why both he and the brat weren't properly dead. Had the Dark Lord won? Should he be getting ready to kneel?_

_He was at Potter's mercy._  
~~~

When Kreacher first came to tell Harry that Snape was sitting up, Harry took the stairs two at a time. But once he got near the room he found himself hovering just outside the door. What could he possibly say that would let the Professor know how glad Harry was that he had survived, let him know how badly Harry wanted to erase all those years of hate and suspicion. Harry knew he wasn't good with words, so he would just have to hope that his sincerity showed on his face.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door before going in.

"Professor?"

Snape just looked at him quietly. Harry really wasn't sure what to make of something that wasn't a glare or a sneer, but he forged ahead. "I wanted to let you know how glad I am that you're ok. We all know now that you were working for the Order and you're welcome here for as long as you need to recover."

Snape looked away for a moment, then looked intently at Harry as he asked, "Is it true that it was you who -- rescued me." He said it as though it was a statement, with all the uncertainty bitten away, but Harry answered it anyway.

“Yeah, it was me. I mean it was an accident, well not really an accident, but sort of not what --”

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yes.”

“Is this an attempt at modesty or are you too polite to say you’d rather not have rescued me, that it was an error or a mistake?”

There was a tiny furrow forming on Snape’s brow. How could he reassure the Professor?

“No, Sir. I definitely wanted you to be ok.” He grinned. “Hermione says I have a saving people thing.”

“Ahh you saved other people at the battle then.” Snape looked relieved and Harry wondered who he was holding out hope for and if it was someone among the dead or missing.

“No, Sir. No one else.”

“Did, did the Order direct you to go back to the Shack then? Surely it was nothing personal?”

Harry caught the slight hesitation and wondered what he could possibly say. Here this man had given years of his life to defeating Voldemort, to safeguarding the students, to rescuing Harry, and yet he didn’t believe that anyone would want to rescue him as a person.

“Sir, I didn’t bring you back for the Order or the war or anything else, Sir. I did it because it upsets me that you gave so much and got so little back. I wanted you to live Sir, to have another chance to really live. When you died it just seemed so--”

An odd little sound from Snape made Harry stop and replay what he’d just said. Oh. “Hermione says you didn’t really die. She says I just brought you forward in time, but I’ve spent two years thinking you were dead and it feels like you’ve come back to life. I’m sorry. I’m really bollixing this up.”

“You’re saying you used magic to save my life and didn’t do it for any reason but that you -- wanted to?” Snape’s voice was harsh with emotion and Harry thought how close he’d come to never seeing this side of Snape, to never having this chance.

“Of course I wanted to, Sir. I’m sorry for all the bad blood between us. Can we just put it in the past? I’d be grateful if you’d stay on here awhile. I’m free till at least the start of the next school year and, well -- it would mean a lot to be able to spend some time with you.”

“So,” said Snape quietly, “If I swear to stay till September, can we consider all debts between us as paid in full?”

“There are no debts, Sir. You owe me nothing. Truly.” But when Harry looked at Snape hoping to see acceptance, he saw instead that one of his hands was clenched and he looked to be in pain.

“If it makes you feel better though I’d be glad of an oath. Do you want a witness, Sir? Ron should be by tomorrow.”

~~~

_No orders. No ulterior motive. No self benefit. It could hardly be worse. Salazar’s testicles, only that idiot boy could have him trapped in a life debt and not even know it. Didn’t the brat have anything besides quidditch muscles between his ears? Ah well, he’d been through worse. A few months with Potter might be as enjoyable as the cruciatis, but at least he knew it would end. And any price was worth paying to stop a life debt from hanging over his head._

_It was hard to relax enough to go to sleep that night. He needed to think of something else. He recited all he knew of his family tree. Then he started in on the Black genealogy._

_Severus dreamed that it was not Regulus who died, but rather himself. He went looking for Regulus thinking that if he could just find him people would understand that it was Severus who was dead. Then they would let him rest. He could quit trying so hard and just lie down._

_When he woke he was still himself, still Severus, and Regulus was still gone. He worked hard at stilling his breathing. He was not a girl. He did not cry._  
~~~

It was late morning when Ron and Harry came up to the room. Harry had given Ron what Hermione called “the talk,” about being respectful to the Professor. Ron hadn’t seemed to be listening any more than he had when Hermione had given it, but Harry didn’t mind. All that mattered was that he had a chance to make things up to Snape. This time he was going to get it right. If a formal oath was what Snape needed to feel forgiven, then Harry would give him the best formal oath in the whole wizarding world. Hermione had even sent a spellbook with Ron, so they could be sure the magic was done exactly right.

Snape was sitting up in bed with the remains of breakfast on a tray on his lap. His eyes met Harry’s, but he had no expression, as he said, “Good morning, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Let us begin.”

It took several minutes for Ron to find the right page, while Harry awkwardly held Snape’s hand.

Harry smiled at Snape and said, “Professor Snape, will you swear to stay here at Grimmauld Place until September and let me get to know you?”

“I will,” said Snape.

Ron’s wand gave off a shaky cloud of sparks that bit into Harry’s hand for a minute, before stabilizing into a thin line of fire that wriggled its way around their joined hands like a climbing snake.

“And will you agree that this vow cancels all debts between us?”

“I will,” said Snape.

Harry’s hands felt sunburned as a second fiery snake twined itself around the first one. The light flared up and out and then it was gone.  
~~~


	3. Chapter 3

_Severus spent most of the afternoon testing his walking ability. Which translated to spending most of the afternoon resting on his bed between brief shaky walks from one side of the room to another. It was a pathetic performance, but Severus was not about to coddle himself by staying in bed vegetating._

_When Kreacher brought him jam and scones, Severus sat brooding over his tea. What on earth had possessed him to make another unbreakable vow? And what had made that gibbering idiot change what he’d asked for in the vow? Undoubtedly it was the best bargain he could get, but Salazar knows it wasn’t good. Somehow he would come out of it alive and be free of the life debt. Still the prospect of a summer with Harry Potter rankled. A summer of being polite to the most illustrious arsehole of the war._

_Then it hit him. The need to be polite was gone. The vow took care of that. Potter was locked in, just like Severus was. If Severus could just make it through a few months he was free. He tried hard not to think about what freedom meant, what he would do with himself after. He would just focus on here and now, on getting through it._

~~~  
Harry smiled the next day when he heard Snape’s slow footsteps coming down the stairs to the kitchen. He was clearly feeling better if he had managed the stairs.

But Harry quit smiling when he saw the scowl on Snape’s face. “Are you all right, Professor? Can I get you something?”

Snape fell into one of the chairs and turned the full force of his glare on Harry. “I am most certainly not ‘all right’. If I understand Kreacher’s babblings correctly, I have been unconscious for weeks with only semi-competent medical care. What possessed you to keep me here? Did you somehow miss out on the fact that there is a well-known wizarding hospital that has experience in treating magical snakebite?"

"You -- you asked me not to send you."

“So you ignored an actual wizarding hospital that has actual experience in treating magical snakebite, because it made so much more sense to take medical advice from a delusional trauma patient?"

"I didn't think that --"

"Of course you didn't think, Potter. Do you ever? Why think when you can do something foolish first? So of course you decided you could treat me here. Of course you decided it would be absolutely delightful if we could be best mates. We could go to pubs together, be one big happy family. Maybe the Weasleys could spare someone for me to date, too?"  
~~~

_Severus stared for a long moment at the delicately patterned wallpaper. Well, his eyes were looking towards it, but really he was staring beyond it into the past that was everywhere here, the past that filled every shadow like some deep sea he might drown in. He was dizzy from the effort of walking. His hand searched out the embossed paper for support. He felt his skin pressed against the subtle ridges and felt Regulus' breath in his ear, his tiny quiet laugh at sneaking Severus into the house all those years ago._

_It was books that had gotten him involved with Regulus. Well, not books, one particularly beautiful book._

_It had been a big, sleek, dragon-bound monster of a book that first made him say yes to Regulus. Severus had seen Regulus reading it in the common room and he could feel its raw power from across the room. He’d wanted that book. Knowing Regulus would say no, he had approached Regulus as casually as he could. He made it appear that he just happened to be going in that direction and just happened to pause by Regulus. Or at least that’s what he’d tried to do. His light, “Mind if I take a look?” was entirely ruined by the flush he felt spreading across his face._

_He knew Regulus would say no._

_Then Regulus had opened his mouth and said, “Maybe.”_

_The deal had been simple: during the loan of any book, Regulus got to use Severus’ mouth when he wanted. Severus was surprised, but he didn’t even consider saying no. He wasn’t at all sure what to do with Regulus’ cock that first time, but Regulus seemed happy enough with his first halting licks and fumbles. Gradually he learned what Regulus liked. Sometimes Severus used his hands on Regulus’ balls while he licked patterns up and down Regulus’ shaft. Sometimes Regulus spelled Severus’ mouth wide open and fucked it as hard and as deep as he could. And sometimes Regulus ran his hands over Severus’ body in ways that made him feel good and want more._

_But what made Severus deliriously happy were the books. He read about hexes and charms, dragons and werewolves, potions and poisons. He learned how to create new spells and test old ones. He read about the virtues of pure blood and the subtle effects of genealogy on magic._

_Through Regulus, he had had access to all of the Black family’s books and then later the Malfoy library as well._

_Nobody mistook him for a boyfriend or even a lover, but his connection with Regulus began to give him a place in the pureblood world._  
~~~

That weekend Ginny managed to get away from the team for an overnight visit, so Ron and Hermione came by for supper. Ron brought his law enforcement homework and Hermione brought her knitting. Sitting in the big stone kitchen, Harry had the oddest feeling that he was back in school at Hogwarts in the common room and none of them had ever left. The heat from the fire, the little complaints from the stiff twigs of his broom as he trimmed them, the sound of Hermione's knitting needles: surely this was what home felt like. 

The subject turned to Snape’s vow.

“Why do you think he agreed to it?” asked Hermione.

Ron paused his attack on the pie he was devouring. “Nobody makes an unbreakable vow just to say they want to be your mate. I mean those buggers are serious!”

What could Harry say? “Who the hell knows why Snape does anything. The arse swore he’d get to know me and now I’m lucky if he’ll say two words a day to me.”

“Well, you’ve always known he was mental,” said Ron. “So what do you think happens if you break an unbreakable vow?”

Hermione looked up from her knitting. “Ron, you know that. It’s one hundred percent fatal.”

“Well, yeah, everyone says that, but what happens? Is he going to explode? Or melt? Or just fall over dead?”

Hermione looked worried. “I’ve never seen a description. I don’t know what happens.”

Harry wondered if it was the idea of a gorey death that upset her or if it was having to admit she didn’t know the answer.

Ginny put her hand on Harry. “Harry, what exactly did you have Snape swear?”

“To, umm, stay here this summer and let me get to know him.”

Ginny looked at Harry like he’d just dropped the snitch. “Do you think he’ll do that?”

Ron cut in. “Doesn’t matter. Second anyone notices he’s alive, they haul his arse to Azkaban.”

“But he’s innocent,” protested Hermione.

“You can say that all day long, but pensieve memories don’t hold up in court. They only get used as a starting point when you need help finding the real evidence. And no one with that tattoo is getting a friendly trial.”  
~~~

_The portraits of Regulus as a baby and little boy didn’t know Severus. They weren’t his Regulus. When Potter was around, Severus was glad there were no paintings of Regulus as a young teenager. Regulus had never have been able to hold his tongue at that age. He would have thought it was funny to tell Potter all Severus’ business._

_Severus was not about to tell Harry about any connection to the house of Black. He knew only too well all the bad things Sirius had probably told Harry about the Blacks. Let Harry believe whatever silly thing he wanted to. It had to be better than what he’d think of the truth._

_Still, sometimes Severus did wish for an older Regulus. As pathetic as portrait sex was, it would be an improvement over his hand. It would certainly be an improvement over the repetitive talks he had with some of the paintings._

_Whenever Potter was out of hearing Severus made it a point to greet all the portraits. They liked to tell him stories about moronic people he had never met doing irrelevant things with other moronic people he had never met. Many of the paintings were acid-tongued and bitter about their neglect by the human world, but he gave them the same careful courtesy he once gave the Dark Lord. Really, this was nothing new. Severus had always been unfailingly polite to portraits. He knew he was not well liked, and he took his allies where he could find them._  
~~~

Hermione gave Harry a huge grin when she tumbled out of the floo unexpectedly. “I found something for you Harry.” Hermione pulled out her beaded purse and began to dig. Out came two raggedy-looking books, a bottle of dittany, and a copper tube for holding scrolls. Hermione frowned and plunged her arm back into her bag. Even though he’d seen it many times before, it still amused Harry to see most of her arm disappear into the impossibly small bag. Harry stopped the dittany from rolling off the table and set it next to the books.

Hermione was still rooting through the bag, so Harry took a look at the books. _Careers in Magical Law Enforcement_ , that must be for Ron. The other book was clearly for Hermione. Harry didn’t know anybody else who would read _Applications of Arithmancy in Magical Theory_ for pleasure.

Meanwhile, Hermione seemed to have found what she was looking for. She pulled out the oddest knitting project yet. Harry tried to move his features into a pleased expression while he worked out what to say. Was it meant to be a small tea cozy? A hat?

“I got this from a Knockturn peddler. I know they usually sell fake garbage, but I had it checked over and it’s the real thing, a vow glass.” Hermione pulled a small glass globe out of the tangle of yarn and handed it to Harry. 

Harry looked at the swirls of glitter floating inside. It looked suspiciously like a muggle snowglobe, until he noticed a small dragon winging its way across the glittery sky and then vanishing into the distance.

Hermione was digging in her bag again. “You put a picture of the person who swore the vow in the globe like this.” She held up a newspaper clipping of Snape and carefully slid it into a slot in the globe. “And it darkens if the vow hasn’t been honored yet.”

Sure enough the glass had become a black tarry mess inside. Harry felt a brief feeling of sadness for the little dragon.  
~~~

_Severus didn’t go out of his way to cozy up to Potter, but sometimes he couldn’t help being in the same room. Severus watched the boy as he bent over to stir the embers of the drawing room fire. Well, he wasn’t really a boy anymore but it was best to think of him that way, best not to get distracted by the way he moved._

_The idiot boy had no business bending like that. It took Severus back to memories of his lost seeker. Regulus had had the same infuriating arrogance, wrapped in the same slight seeker build. It made Severus’ cock twitch to remember those tight Hogwarts storage closets with their splintery walls. The sweaty feel of Regulus’ skin and his own harsh breathing had filled up the darkness until Severus felt he had discovered another kind of magic._

_Severus knew better than to expect that sort of frisson from an earnest clod like Potter. Still there was something strangely safe about looking at someone who would never look back. Potter was as straight as they came and Severus had no delusions about his own power to attract. When people wanted him, it would always be for other reasons. But then he had no desire to be looked at that way. He wasn’t a nancy boy. He wasn’t a girl._

_He was staring, wasn’t he. He needed to leave the room before the boy noticed he was staring. All the little cretin needed to feed his ego was to see Severus staring like an infatuated first-year. Severus pulled his shoulders back, pulled his dignity together, and strode out of the room._  
~~~

Harry woke up late at night and something made him muffle his step as he walked through the dreaming house. There — he heard it again. Two voices were raised in animated conversation downstairs. Creeping to the railing he could make out Snape's stiff voice and a woman's laugh.

Harry only wrestled with his conscience for a moment before he was back with a pair of extendable ears and a periscope eye. Snape sat on the hall floor, pale and greasy. "— at times. I'm sorry things have gone so badly, Ma'am."

"Hush, boy," said a firm old-lady voice. Harry swore it was coming from Walburga's portrait. "You were a good servant to the house of Black. Orion and I were fonder of you than I'd ever believe of a haa— of a child with your unfortunate background."

Her voice was almost gentle as she called Snape "child," but Harry found no answering tenderness inside him. Instead the thought gripped him that after all Harry had done this was who the bastard had chosen to cuddle up to.

Carefully he undid the muffling charm and let his foot stomp down as he turned away. The silence below was sudden and sharp as Harry walked loudly to the bathroom and firmly shut the door.  
~~~

Snape’s glower seemed permanently back in place. His glare was so caustic that Harry began to imagine the wallpaper was covered with singe marks.

Harry didn’t feel comfortable making floo calls that Snape might overhear and asked his friends to communicate only by owl. There was a tension that never went away, as Harry tried to keep track of where in the house Snape was. He was always listening for the tread of Snape’s feet. 

Sometimes he pretended he didn’t care that Snape was in the same room. He’d hold a quidditch book stiffly in front of his face, reading the same line over and over. Or he’d just give up and look at the pictures. Then he at least turned the pages at a reasonable rate.

Other times Harry just couldn’t take it. Snape would walk into a room and he’d walk out.

“Why can’t he just leave the house?” he asked Ron. “Just for an afternoon. Just for a bloody hour.”

“You’re the one who put him under house arrest, mate. You didn’t just have him swear to live in the house. You had him swear to stay in the house.”

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, I think he deserves it. You need to get out more though.”

So Ron began inviting Harry to evening law enforcement lectures at the Ministry. And Hermione told Harry he had a standing date with her for Tuesday and Thursday Hogsmeade lunches.  
~~~

_Severus knew he’d have to talk to Potter if he wanted to live, and not just talk but open up like a first-year Hufflepuff. He’d been young and stupid enough to open himself up that far once, but he wasn’t about to make that mistake again. He wasn’t the sort of thing anybody wanted to see the insides of._

_So he looked for other solutions. He didn’t expect to find any, but it was a way to pass the time._

_Severus tried to remember everything he knew about the mirror of Erised. He had never heard of it moving anyone through time before. Albus had used it as part of the protection for Flamel’s old stone, but the old man had always been very close-mouthed about exactly what charm work he had used and exactly how the mirror had given the stone to Potter and kept it from Quirrell._

_Not that Severus expected the old coot to tell him anything. Well, he had expected it, but he’d gotten over that foolishness. Salazar knows Albus had never trusted him no matter how much he claimed he did. After all it was Albus who had told him Harry would die. Yet here Harry was, very much alive. So nothing Albus had told him could be trusted._

_Thinking about the mirror was, as predicted, a dead end. So what else was there?_

_Severus searched his memories for a way out of an unbreakable vow. Of course there weren’t any ways out. That was the whole point of one. Still, there was a certain grim entertainment in recalling wizard after wizard who had broken an unbreakable vow and died._  
~~~

That Wednesday, Ron owled Harry telling him to meet him at the Millicent Bagnold Memorial Lecture Hall for the first lecture. Harry had no idea what to expect. 

The Millicent Bagnold Memorial Lecture Hall turned out to be a small and rather shabby auditorium on the second floor. Harry’s shoes stuck to the floor as he followed Ron to a seat near the small wooden stage.

It was a stiff, dry lecture about aurors in ancient history, given by a man who looked as dead as the aurors he droned on about. Harry didn’t mind a bit. It was a chance for a lovely nap in a Snape-free environment.

~~~  
On Thursday, Harry stopped by Hogwarts to take Hermione to Hogsmeade on her lunch break. It was strange walking through the halls now that all the students were gone for the summer. A few pictures waved to him in passing, but mostly he saw nobody he knew.

Hermione was still in the library, sitting at a table piled high with books. She was bent low over an oversized book that looked like someone had poured a pot of coffee over its pages and then left it to dry.

"Oh, there you are, Harry. I don't know if I should go to Hogsmeade with you. I've barely made a dent in this pile today. I'm never going to get this group catalogued. I can't even decide if this blasted book is herbology or charms."

"At least come to the kitchen with me and get lunch. You need to eat to keep your concentration."

Hermione seemed to cheer up once she had gotten a little food in her. Harry let most of her bright stream of chatter wash over him. He was glad that she was enjoying her summer job of sorting and cataloguing the many books that were euphemistically called "war donations" to the Hogwarts library. Entire private libraries had been “donated,” and he understood that it was probably important work, but a library would probably never be his favorite place and the intricacies of book care couldn't hold his attention.

So instead he focused on the warm smells of food, the bright sun coming in the windows, and the sound of her voice. Every now and then he caught a word or a phrase, just enough to nod at appropriate moments.

As they cleared up their dishes and scourgified them, Hermione said "Oh, I forgot. I think I might have found a way to undo a permanent sticking charm and get that awful portrait down."

"That's brilliant, Hermione. What do we have to do?"

"I'm not sure yet. I have to re-read it to make sure I understand it. It's in this funny old book of practical advice for housewives. I'll ask if I can bring it next time I come to Grimmauld Place."  
~~~

Harry stopped by Hagrid's hut on the way home. "Hagrid, what do you do when someone is being a right arsehole and you don't like them but you need them to open up and talk to you?"

"That's an easy one, lad. Was the Hungarian Horntail being an arse when it took a swipe at yeh?"

"No, but it was a DRAGON!"

"Don' make no difference. When yeh wanted ter ride Buckbeak, did yeh go up ter him thinkin' he was an arse? An' even more important, did Malfoy think Buckbeak was an arse? An' did tha' help Malfoy any?"

"Are you saying I'm acting like Malfoy?"

"I can't say how yer actin', Harry, because I haven't seen it, but yer not thinkin' right fer this. If yeh want ter tame something bitey, yeh've got to think that it's in their nature an' not go getting upset about it."  
~~~

_Now that Potter went out more, Severus spent long hours in the library. It wasn’t the beautifully somber library room he remembered from his youth. That was long gone. Like most families who had reason to fear the aurors, the Blacks had decided discretion was the better part of valour. The books had gone into hiding. He doubted the Potters even knew they were there._

_Two entire walls in the attic were just a little off from where careful measurement would lead you to expect them. To visitors they were badly scarred old wood, to anyone keyed to the wards they were barely there at all, mere hints of mist obscuring the ancient volumes that marched across the true walls._

_That first time he had gone up to the attic, Severus hadn’t been sure if the wards would still let him pass. He’d half expected to be knocked down when he hit the attic wall. Instead, as he strode towards and then through the graying wood he felt it melt to a fine mist all around him. Then he was in the long aisle of books that hugged the perimeter of the attic._

_Severus breathed in the smell of old paper and leather. He should have known the library would remember him. He’d spent so many hours with these books. He ran his hand gently down the oversized spines. Here and there a book gave a soft purr and leaned into his hand._

_Ahh, there it was, The Shaype of Magick and the Arte of Spelcrafft. He smiled as he looked at the opening page, where Narcissa had written a message in a careful schoolgirl hand: To Severus. It’s time for me to quit lending you this book and make it yours._

_The girl had always had a soft heart. Too soft. She’d overlooked so many failings in him over the years, even though she knew exactly what he was. He still suspected it was Narcissa who had convinced Mrs. Walburga Black that it was acceptable to allow Severus into her house. Yet he knew she would never mention the conversation to him, never give a hint that she knew he was irreparably damaged goods._

_Regulus, on the other hand, thought his mother’s objections to Severus were great fun. He told Severus that his mother just needed to be convinced Severus was housebroken and wouldn’t damage the furniture. Regulus never seemed to notice how stiff Severus got when he teased him about being half-muggle, practically an animal. Or maybe he did notice. It was hard to be certain when Severus’ worst glares just made him laugh harder. Nobody raised by Orion and Walburga Black was going to be intimidated by a mere glare._  
~~~

Over lunch, Harry told Hermione, "Ron thinks I should treat it like an interrogation and use veritaserum. Hagrid says I should act like he's a hipograff that's bitey."

"What do you think Harry?"

"I think no matter what I do he's going to look at me like I did something really stupid and then die on me."

"Harry, it's not just you alone in this. We're here for you. We rescued Buckbeak. We can do this. We can use Ron's textbook for information on interrogation. I can brew veritaserum. I don't have any good books on hipograffs... Maybe I could stop at a bookstore on the way home."

Harry had to suppress a smile. When the world ended and the oceans came crashing in to cover London or fire fell from the skies, Hermione would be running to the nearest bookstore for the solution. 

~~~  
Then it was mid-June, and Ginny was home for the rest of the off-season. They had put up banners and Kreacher had baked a cake. Harry had been looking forward to spending time with his best friends, but somehow Hermione had gotten started on a rant. Harry didn’t think he had done anything to cause it, but he watched her warily.

“That book is horrible. It’s like a housewife manual for rich creepy purebloods. Some of it’s almost normal: how to do a household inventory, baby-monitoring spells, sticking charms for furniture, glamours to wear for company, and all that sort of thing. But some of it...” Hermione glared at Harry as though he was personally responsible for what she had read. “Some of it should be illegal. It’s got spells for making house elves’ punishments more painful and it’s got a spell for enslaving HUMANS. How can people do these things?”

“Are you sure?” asked Ron. “Human slavery is illegal.”

“Tell me this isn’t slavery,” Hermione demanded, shoving an open book at Ron. “It says it’s an ownership spell!”

Ron looked relieved after he looked at the page. “Oh, that’s just Votum Fidelitatis. Having a Leodium is no big deal. It’s not really ownership. It’s more like a belonging spell. Maybe some of the really old-style families treat it like ownership, but mostly it’s more like -- Hermione what’s that word for what muggles do when they want to have a baby?”

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it, but nothing came out. Ginny looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Absorption? No. Adoption! That’s it. It’s more like adoption. People do it to protect squibs all the time.”

Ginny got control of her breathing in time to say, “Sometimes servants get asked to say the vow when they’ve been with the family a long time. Wasn’t the Zabini’s old stable master a Leodium?”

“I hear he took care of more than her horses,” said Ron, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You mean he had to -- How can you joke about that, Ron? Isn’t anybody protecting these people?”

Ron threw Ginny a please-help-me look.

“Hermione, it’s really not like that. Ron’s just taking the piss. If someone’s stupid enough to go and marry Mrs. Zabini, now that’s taking your life in your hands, but being a Leodium comes with protection. When Mrs. Zabini accepted his vow, she took responsibility for his safety. Some of the more stuck-up families see it as a big honor because they’re giving someone their sacred family name.”

“They take the same last name?” asked Harry. “Like a marriage?”

“Well, pretty close to that,” said Ron. “If you want to be my Leodium, Harry, you’d be ‘Harry of the Weasleys’. Very big honor that.”

“I’ll, er, think about it.”

“You do that, mate. It’d be a step up from that naff Potter name.”

“Anyway, Hermione,” said Harry, “why are you reading up on how to enslave us all?”

“Harry! Do you listen to anything I say? It’s the book with the removal charm I told you about. I want to try it on the picture of Mrs. Black.”

“Brilliant! What do I need to do,” asked Harry.

“I’m still figuring it out. The spell calls for absolute silence from everybody except for the spell caster.”

Ron laughed. “Merlin’s bloody bum, you’re stuck with the old nutter forever.”  
~~~


	4. Chapter 4

It was so good to have Ginny back at Grimmauld Place. With Ginny back home and Ron and Hermione still doing their best to get Harry out of the house, Harry tried to just ignore Snape’s endless snit.

Harry kept having lunch with Hermione and going to evening lectures with Ron. Sometimes the four of them had supper together in the big stone kitchen, determinedly ignoring what Ron called Harry’s “Snape infestation.” The four of them played everybody-versus-Ron chess. Hermione read aloud from books she thought would entertain them. Ginny and Ron taught the others off-color wizarding songs. And sometimes late at night Harry and Ginny played mad two-person quidditch matches, with bizarre rules made up on the spot that often changed midgame.

June drifted into July. Hermione had began brewing with the new moon on July 1st and seemed to be enjoying the challenge of the delicate work. Not that she said that out loud of course. She talked about all the resources she needed to consult and all the things that could go wrong if she didn’t concentrate. Harry knew Hermione, though. The potion was going to be fine.

Harry bought a stealth broom and he and Ginny took long crazy flights wrapped in the invisibility cloak.

They had a midnight picnic on top of the Canary Wharf tower. There was a flat spot near the edge, but Ginny insisted on camping right on the steep pyramid on top. Harry used his best sticking charms, but it still felt like they would slide right off the slanted roof. The ground was so far below they couldn’t help shivering, but it felt wonderful to snog on top of the world, like he was falling and flying all at once.

Harry tried to show Ginny in a thousand ways how much he’d missed her. He took her to fancy muggle restaurants in London. He helped her sort through stuff for the charity auction. He planned a surprise party for her at the Burrow. But sometimes he’d be kissing her and realize he was thinking of Snape. It made Harry angry. The man intruded everywhere he was not wanted.  
~~~

July 31st and the finished veritaserum potion came before Harry was ready for it. He had tried to come up with a question list, but everything just seemed either too trivial or just plain rude. What’s your favorite color? Did you want to fuck my mom? What the bloody hell was he supposed to ask?

Maybe he could start with small questions and build from there. Surely it would be simple once the veritaserum kicked in. He dipped his quill in the ink and wrote carefully: #1 What is your favorite color? #2 Why did you go to Hogwarts?

Finally Harry just asked everybody to give him a couple questions each. Over breakfast Ginny suggested asking what Snape’s favorite quidditch team was and what spells he’d learned first as a child. Hermione owled him two magic theory questions that he couldn’t read or pronounce, let alone understand. And then there was Ron. Harry was sure he’d asked for easy low-pressure questions, but when it arrived, Ron’s owl just said,“Were you a traitor?”

Harry sighed. He needed to quit thinking. He always did better when he just dove in. He’d start with these and then, whatever happened happened. Besides, Ginny would be heading back to the team in just a couple of days and Harry wanted to enjoy them.  
~~~

Snape had reacted oddly when Harry told him he’d be giving him veritaserum. He’d expected an argument or some kind of a struggle. After all Ginny and Ron had both told Harry he should just put the stuff in Snape’s breakfast tea and not tell him. But instead of fighting, Snape just scowled at him, reached for the teacup and took a sip.

“So this is how we’re getting our kicks today Potter? Fascinating. Whose cupboard did you raid this time?”

Not pausing for an answer, Snape began crunching his way through his usual piece of toast. When all the tea in the cup was gone it occurred to Harry that maybe the rumors were true that one could occlude against veritaserum. He looked suspiciously at Snape looking for any sign that the potion was working. Snape wiped his mouth with the black sleeve of his robe and and glared back at Harry.

“Am I to provide both the questions and the answers, Mr. Potter?”

Something was clearly happening. Snape’s pupils were large in his eyes.

Harry reached for his list of questions and began.

“What is your favorite color?”

“Green,” Snape said, around another bite of toast.

“Why did you go to Hogwarts?”

“Obviously they sent me a letter.”

“And your favorite quidditch team?”

“Haven’t got one.”

“Are you even trying to help me with these questions?”

“I believe it’s the answers I’m responsible for.”

“You’re impossible! That’s bloody it.” Harry aimed his next question like a bludger.

“You were a Death Eater. Did you believe that garbage about pure blood being better?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still believe it?”

“Yes.”

Ron had been right.

“Are you a traitor?”

“Of course.”

“You -- you did want to kill Dumbledore didn’t you? Avada Kedavra doesn’t work unless you bloody mean it. You bastard. How could you mean it?”

“I hated him.”

“I’LL BLOODY SHOW YOU MEANING IT!” Harry screamed as the china shattered all over the table. He aimed his wand right at Snape, who simply raised an eyebrow. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Snape sat there for a long moment before brushing the china fragments off his robe. He was getting up from the table just as Ginny ran in, wand at the ready. “Just an uncontrolled magic burst, Mrs. Potter. I’m afraid we killed the china. My apologies.” Snape walked past Harry and out of the room.  
~~~

_Severus didn’t really like the taste of tea all that much, but he still drank it on a regular basis. It took him back over the years to picnics in playgrounds and empty lots. Lily had always loved tea and he’d pretended to like it so they could sit together sipping from the delicate cups._

_At first it had just been make-believe tea, a baby’s game played with empty cups. Then Severus had learned wandless hot water charms for the tea and glamours for the two of them. Suddenly it was a pretend so serious it was no longer pretend. It was the entrance to another world where he wasn’t Severus._

_Today he’d had Kreacher bring some tea to his room, but it just seemed to be bad tasting water with no special powers._  
~~~

Instead of the usual scrawled note with the time and place for the evening’s lecture, Ron owled Harry a big white ticket. At least the note said it was a ticket. It looked suspiciously like a piece of blank white cardboard. However, as Harry held it, words began to appear in a beautiful cursive script that said:

Auror Trainee Demonstration  
students and current staff only  
8PM in the Millicent Bagnold Memorial Lecture Hall

Harry was pathetically glad to have something to take his mind off how much he already missed Ginny. This looked like as good a way to spend an evening as any, and it would make Ron happy to see Harry take an interest in auror work again.

People were still setting up when Ron and Harry arrived. An annoyed-looking auror with big, bushy, grey eyebrows was rearranging the chairs on the wooden stage, while another auror talked to a small huddle of students.

“The second year trainees are doing a veritaserum demonstration with Proudfoot and Dawlish,” whispered Ron. “They say it’s the hardest thing all second year.”

Harry looked at the students and thought that several of them looked rather fidgety. One of them had the faintly green look he remembered from Neville’s face during potions meltdowns.

The aurors explained that one of the two of them had committed the serious “crime” of hiding the room’s lectern. The students’ job was to uncover the thief and the details of the heist.

Once the demonstration started, Harry understood why the trainees had looked so nervous. He saw each of the two aurors drink his glass of veritaserum-laced water. It should have been easy to question them, and the mock interrogation should have been over in moments. Instead, the aurors ducked the questions as easily as if they had drunk plain water.

The team assigned to question Proudfoot went first. They were only able to get their suspect to confess to living “in a house” and having the bad habit of chewing his fingernails. He also informed them happily that the lectern was indeed a piece of furniture.

The second group didn’t fare any better with their auror. Dawlish was quite insistent that he hadn’t taken the lectern from the room. He was also quite clear that he hadn’t seen anybody else take the lectern from the room.

When the clock had run out on the second team, the two aurors briefly conferred. Then Dawlish flicked his wand at a student’s chair. The startled girl found herself sitting on the missing lectern, to much laughter from the audience. After Dawlish admitted to transfiguring the lectern in order to hide it, Proudfoot began a mind-numbingly long listing of what the students had done wrong.

Afterwards Harry wondered if the students had actually been trying to get answers, or if the point of the demonstration was to show all the ways an interrogation could go wrong. It did make him feel a little bit better about his first interrogation of Snape. He had actually gotten a few real answers from the slimy snake, and if second-year auror trainees had this much trouble then he should be proud.  
~~~

The next morning he found Snape reading the Daily Prophet. It was folded open to a picture of Draco Malfoy going down on one knee before a girl who smiled adoringly at him. Both of them were dressed in conservative dress robes embroidered with intricate designs. The picture looked completely staged, but he had to admit it made Malfoy and the girl look regal, like something out of a fairy tale.

When he thought of how the paper had treated Ginny and himself, Harry started to fume. Who had Malfoy payed off anyway?

“So Malfoy’s got the sudden urge to get hitched. What makes that news?” asked Harry.

“Sudden? I think not. They put a good deal of thought into the match. Not something you’d be familiar with.”

"You bloody fucking superior fuck!" Harry's voice got louder with each word. "You think you're better than everyone! Don't you? DON’T YOU?" He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Feel himself riding the hot wind of his own anger. A river of words poured out, seizing him and propelling him forward till his hands gripped Snape's robes, his face was shoved up against Snape's. Snape was strangely silent, eyes wide. The chest under his hands was rigid and still.

He pushed hard at that chest, a brutal shove that had Snape stumbling back against the wall. And still he stepped forward, pressing on Snape like he meant to press him through the wall, grind him away to nothing, push him out of existence. And then suddenly he became aware of his cock pressing against Snape's thigh. Of. Oh God. Suddenly Snape's body was everywhere, touching him.

He pulled back like a scalded man and ran from the room.

Harry carefully avoided Snape for the next two days. He got up early and was out of the house each day before it could properly be called day. He found reasons to visit people. He ran errands.

Then finally he could take it no more and owled Ginny to see if he could visit her at Qudditch camp. Moments after he arrived, he was backing her into her own wall and kissing her so hard that for a moment she was too stunned to kiss back. Then somebody was dragging somebody into a bedroom. Clothes were flying off and hands and mouths were everywhere, grabbing, tasting, devouring.

Afterwards, as they lay in sticky bliss, Harry ran his fingers gently over her lips and throat and breasts saying nothing but a quiet litany of "Ginny Ginny Ginny".

She smiled lazily at him and said, "I don't know what brought that on, but I like. Mmm. I like."

Wordless, Harry could only stare back.  
~~~

_Severus sat on the front step staring into the rain. The little bit of sky he could see over the buildings had a sort of dull, silvery look, uniform and solid like a well-mixed potion. It had started out as more a falling mist than a rain, but it was truly rain, large wet drops that landed on the pavement, the buildings and Severus' hair. He could feel water starting to work its way into his clothes, but there didn't seem to be any point in moving. There didn't seem to be any point in anything really._

_Some wet muggle children splashed by on their way to somewhere dryer. An old woman picked her way slowly by holding a flowered umbrella. No one turned to see him. No one could see him. Silly people._

_He wondered how they explained away all the extra footsteps they took when walking by the hidden house. A very few of them got this odd little look of confusion on their faces as they passed number twelve. It was the sort of look you get when you are absent-mindedly going down a staircase and expect to step off the final step onto level ground, only to discover another step beneath your foot. Their faces showed that same sort of embarrassed lurch, the one where you realize you must have lost track of your surroundings for a minute and can't match your mental map to where you actually are._

_Most of the walkers showed no awareness of anything beyond their narrow focus on getting somewhere that wasn't here. For a moment he wondered if he envied them for having a purpose, for having somewhere to go. But no, he didn't really have the energy for that. There was nothing to do that made any difference. There was just the rain filling up the world._  
~~~

Harry almost didn’t go to the next lecture, even though that would mean disappointing Ron. However, it wasn’t the grubby classroom exercise he had come to expect. There were only a few students and trainees in the audience. Most of the people looked like aurors and other Ministry workers.

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked to the front of the room and informed them in his slow, deep voice that he was going to teach them to make friends. There was a scattering of laughter at this. He went on to explain that how you approached a suspect could be as important as what you asked them. A timid or nervous prisoner could sometimes be won over by a friendly tone of voice or an open body posture. Little kindnesses could also make a big difference. Something as small as a cigarette, a cup of coffee, or a jacket in a cold cell could tip the balance between an interrogation that went badly and one that went well.

Harry imagined giving Snape cigarettes and coffee to soften him up. The image of a grateful Snape was so ridiculous that Harry came close to laughing out loud. Snape wouldn’t know gratitude if it bit him in the arse. He looked over at Ron and felt guilty when he saw Ron furiously scribbling notes. This stuff was serious to Ron. Harry wished he cared half as much about getting into auror training as Ron did.

Kingsley had moved on to talking about a muggle interrogation technique that he called “Mutt and Jeff.” It took a team of two aurors, one acting cold and the other acting warm and friendly. This style worked on some prisoners who resisted a single friendly auror.

Kingsley took the audience slowly through the kindly “Jeff” techniques. Then he started in on an abrasive “Mutt” routine. Harry watched in awe as Kingsley seemed to disappear into each role. It was beautifully done, but Harry doubted he could ever do that himself. How could he ever hide his disgust for some of the scum that aurors had to question?

During the question and answer period, a young law enforcement officer asked Kingsley the very question Harry had been asking himself. How could Kingsley stand to be kind to a murderer or a terrorist? Kingsey took a sip from his water glass and said, “That’s an excellent question. It can be very hard to do, but hard isn’t impossible. Even the worst human being has some small likable thing about them that you can focus on. Most suspects are loyal to their families and kind to their pets.”

“Or if you prefer a more intellectual approach, I’d suggest spending time looking at the prisoner’s worldview. Once you understand their beliefs, you’ll often be surprised to find that, from the prisoner’s warped point of view, they were doing the right thing.”

Harry gestured to Ron for his pen and wrote, “Why not just use a potion to make them think you’re their darling Jeff-buddy?”

Ron frowned at Harry and crossed the note out, but then he raised his hand.

“Are there any potions that would help convince a prisoner you were their friend?”

“Good question Ron. There’s a few things like amicus potion, but those aren’t admissible in court so it’s best to avoid them.”

Ron was still scribbling notes when the question period ended. Harry sat waiting for him, wishing he could leave fast before somebody decided they had to talk to the boy who lived. Sure enough Kingsley strolled over.

“It’s good to see you both here. Will you be at the Ministry this fall?”

Before Harry knew what to say, Ron was already talking. “You know we will. Harry and I will have our applications in this September.”

“That’s wonderful news. I hope you enjoyed the talk.”

“I did, Sir,” said Harry. “There’s just one bit I don’t quite understand.”

“Let’s hear it, Harry.”

“I don’t see how you could make sense of some Death Eaters’ thoughts. Say I had to question Tom Riddle back when he was still human. How could I possibly understand a halfblood who says only pure-blood wizards are worth anything? Aren’t all of his so called beliefs just a pack of lies that even he didn’t believe in?”

Kingsley smiled. “It’s hard when you start out big like that. Try starting with an easier puzzle. Have you ever known a Ravenclaw who did poorly in school?”

“Well, yes.”

“So was the kid a liar? Did he claim that academic knowledge mattered, while really he was treating it like a joke?”

Harry thought about it. “No. He tried hard. He used to hide his marks, but it wasn’t really lying. He was right embarrassed.”

“So he knew he fell short and it bothered him? Do you see how that could twist somebody up? Now imagine a kid who believes that pure blood is better but doesn’t have it. What would he do?”

“He’d have to hate himself.”

“That or learn to change his beliefs.”

 

As they left, Ron said quietly, “That was about Snape, wasn’t it?”

Harry didn’t bother denying it.

Ron tried again. “Do you still want to rescue the git?”

“He makes me so angry I want to smash his face in, but I don’t want him dead. I don’t even want him in prison.”

“The not in prison bit is going to be even harder than the not dead bit.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll ask Hermione if she can brew that amicus stuff.”  
~~~

Harry still found himself wanting to hit Snape, or maybe hex him, or maybe just shake him hard and get him to help in his own rescue. Snape didn’t even act like they were trying to save his bloody life. Instead of being grateful, Snape was still Snape, surly and nasty as ever.

That Sunday, Harry found himself flooing to see Ginny again for another round of explosive sex. This time he pulled her into the assistant coach’s office and onto the desk.

When their breathing had gotten back to normal, Ginny ran her hand along Harry’s face and said, “Harry, I’m not blind. We can talk about it. I don’t give a damn if you fancy the old git. We just need to agree how to handle it.”

Harry stared at her. “I don’t fancy the bastard. I can’t stand him. Ginny, you’re my wife! How can you even talk about...,” Harry sat down hard on the desk chair and started pulling his trousers back on. “I bloody HATE YOU, YOU SICK BITCH. I --”

Ginny grabbed for her wand. The next thing Harry knew he was flat on his back with a ringing head. Ginny was sitting next to him looking worried. “I’m sorry, but don’t you ever call me that again. You say you don’t fancy him, okay you don’t fancy him. Don’t leave me guessing what’s going on with you. I can find a way to be home more. Just bloody tell me what you need.”  
~~~

Of all people it was Hermione who first realized how they could use the fidelitatis vow. When Harry got to the Three Broomsticks for their usual lunch, she said, “I owe Ron and Ginny an apology. I still don’t like that fidelitatis vow, but they’re right. It’s not slavery. It’s positively ancient and it reeks of pure-blood arrogance, but it’s not slavery.”

“That’s good then, but you don’t have to worry about it. I doubt Ron or Ginny even remember that conversation.”

“Well, it bothered me that I didn’t understand it. So I did a little reading, just stuff like this.” She handed Harry a book called _From Lieges to House-elves: Feudal Magic in the Modern Era_. Harry opened it to the first page and saw: A study of the vow between leodium and liege lord, house-elf fealty, and the meaning of feudal relationships in modern wizarding society.

“You know I’m pants at reading this sort of thing, Hermione. I’m glad it helped you though. Are you going to be at the Burrow on Saturday?”

“Wait Harry, you’ve got to listen. This is important. If we use it right the Votum Fidelitatis could keep Snape permanently safe from prison. It was created as a way to swear loyalty and allegiance to a feudal lord, but now most wizards see it as a form of extended family. If Snape swears the vow to you and becomes your Leodium, he’ll be part of your family, a Potter. Nobody would dare to put a Potter in prison.”

“So this vow thing could keep Snape out of Azkaban? How on earth do we get him to swear it?”  
~~~

Ron had suggested that a more informal location might help both Harry and Snape relax for the next questioning attempt. So Harry had decided to use what they called the rubbish room. It was full of odds and ends and as far from formal as one could get.

Harry had pushed some boxes and trunks to one side to clear some space. The bean bag chairs had been Ginny’s idea. He hadn’t wanted to waste time doing the questioning while she was home for a couple days, but Ginny had insisted.

The anti-inhibitions potion was a sluggish syrup just a little oranger than honey. Simply looking at it was relaxing, as though you were soaking up the mixture through your eyes. Ron's textbook said amicus potion made suspects feel warm and comfortable and as though they trusted their questioners. Ron had taken to calling it "Jeff in a bottle."

Harry carefully measured out three droppersful before Snape arrived. He had to be sure to do this right. He stirred the syrup into the veritaserum drink until he couldn’t tell it had ever been added.

Snape's posture made it clear that he was not amused by the casual decor. Harry didn't know how he did it. Only Snape could sit that way on a bean bag chair, spine straight as an icicle. The man didn’t know the meaning of the word relaxed. Still he did drink the butterbeer Harry offered, even if he did look at the glass like it had offended him personally.

Harry knew everything was going to be ok when he watched Snape's face soften like warm wax. Gone was the impassive mask, as his jaw opened slightly and his eyes relaxed. Shoulders loosened, head fell forward. Harry smiled at the mellow stranger across from him.

Then Snape held both hands up to his dreamy face and said in awe, "I have two hands."

Harry just stared, while Snape continued to ponder his hands before pressing them all the way to his face and peering out between the fingers giggling. "I see the boy," said Snape. "Boy. Boy. Beautiful boy." And before Harry knew what to say Snape was down on the rug and crawling towards him.

There's no other way to describe it: Harry bolted. Then, safe on the other side of the door, he screamed for Ginny at the top of his lungs.

When Ginny finally figured out what Harry was yelling about and saw Snape she just laughed. "Three drops did this? Merlin's arse! You've gotten Snape sloshed! It's no big deal. I had to babysit Fred and George a couple times when they were testing new potions on themselves."

When Harry peeked in the room a half hour later, Ginny appeared to be sorting through the gowns they were planning to donate to the charity auction. Snape was lying on his side with a pile of fabric cushioning his head. He was looking at a gauzy swath of pink fabric draped over a chair next to him and saying, "Pretty. Pink is so pretty," in the tone of somebody having a mystic revelation.  
~~~

Hermione pulled the usual clutter out of her bag while looking for the money to pay for her Hogsmeade lunch. There was a book on knitting patterns, a latin-goblin dictionary, _Man in a Dress: Free To Be Me_ , and -- What?

Hermione still had her arm deep in the bag when she stopped and looked at Harry’s face. She looked down at the table and saw the book. “Oh. Merlin. I.”

Hermione wasn’t supposed to look uncertain. Was something wrong with Ron?

“Harry, if there’s anything you want to tell us, you know Ron and I are here for you. You’re family and we love you no matter what.”

Harry looked back down at the book. “Hermione, I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m not a big fan of dresses. On me that is. I’m sure they look splendid on you.” He looked at Hermione. “Is this a joke?” Hermione wasn’t the sort to pull pranks. “Did George put you up to this?”

Hermione looked puzzled, but she said, “If, well if you ever do want to tell me something like this I’ll listen.”

“Gryffindor’s honor. I’m not a dress man.”

“Ginny came to me with all these questions, and it just seemed logical that she was talking about you. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Hermione. If I ever do have a deep, dark secret, you’ll be the first person I’ll tell.”

Then it came to him: the image of Snape with his head pillowed on a mound of dresses, staring happily at a fall of sheer pink fabric. So Snape was a secret girly girl. No wonder he had gone completely spare when Remus dressed up the boggart like a granny.  
~~~

Harry found himself thinking about Snape’s secret. Harry had always thought men who liked dresses were like Lockhart, all charm and hair curlers. Snape didn’t fit any of that. He was all greasy and glarey and, well, ugly.

Still, Harry was oddly fascinated by the idea of Snape in a dress. He kept picturing a skirt hugging that skinny arse and a sheer blouse showing off the total lack of cleavage. It wasn’t that he wanted to see it. It was that the idea was so wrong. The thought made him want to stare at Snape the way drivers stopped to stare at a bad car accident.

Was Ginny right? Did he have some sort of sick thing for Snape? Bloody hell, how could she be the one who asked this? She was the one who was supposed to make these kind of thoughts go away. She’d said to talk to her. Feeling like he was in a bad dream, Harry forced himself to write a note: You were right about the fancying. I love you. What do I do?  
~~~

_Severus approved of Genevra Potter as much as he could approve of any Gryffindor. Why she had set her sights on Potter he would never know, but she was a formidable woman. He’d seen her potions and her battlefield hexes and she was the least girlish girl he knew. Potter slunk from the room in fear of his own shadow or yelled like a wet cat in a bath. Mrs. Potter, on the other hand, acted like it didn’t matter one way or the other if there were one Snape or a dozen Snapes roaming the house._

_So Severus was surprised when she told him that she wanted him to move in permanently as a member of the family._

_“Swear a fidelitatis vow to a Potter? Be the family’s Leodium? Lovely offer, but not what I’d planned. I think not.”_

_“I don’t give a flobberworm’s arse if it fits your plans or not. You’ll be offering Harry a fidelitatis vow if I have to Imperius you.”_

_“Mrs. Potter, you are aware that nothing done under Imperius is legally binding?”_

_“Have you ever seen me give two knuts about the law? If you announce that you didn’t give your consent, you’re right it won’t be legal. But the magic will still hold. So you’d still have to serve, but the relationship wouldn’t be legally recognized. Which means the Potters will have no responsibility for you at all. Ever. Is that what you want?”_

_“What I want is to call your ridiculous bluff. Do you really expect me to believe a Gryffindor will publicly use an Imperius?”_

_“I know a few love potions and hexes that would work just as well to move your stubborn arse.”_

_“My life and my, as you kindly put it, stubborn arse are none of your concern.”_

_“Anything that involves Harry is my business. He hasn’t gotten drunk since you came here. Here, let me say it in Slytherin. It’s a winning deal for both of us. I get a sober Harry. I get my marriage back. You get a pass out of Azkaban for joining the Potter family. I get to relax when I’m with the team because someone will be looking after Harry. And if I understand the way you two idiots keep watching each other, you’ll be having some fun of your own.”_

_“That doesn’t bother you?”_

_“Bothered by a Leodium? How much of a muggle do you think I am?”_  
~~~

_Severus finished the lemonade Harry handed him. It was easier to cooperate than to struggle. The sooner he drank whatever potions Potter had decided to annoy him with, the sooner he could get through the current installment of the idiot show and be by himself again. The lemonade had an odd taste of cinnamon and maybe rhubarb. He wasn’t sure he cared what potions were in the mix, but he couldn’t help noting the individual notes of flavor._

_He turned to say something caustic to Potter._

_It felt as though the sun had come out. He felt the warmth of Harry’s smile like a hug from a blanket. It seemed like there should be tea to go with this mood, tea and a picnic blanket and a girl with red hair. Severus thought he’d said this outloud and a faraway voice said that he should quit talking and shut it. But that was silly. It was Harry he was talking to. Harry who was like the sun. It was good to talk to Harry. So he told Harry about the tea._

_He told Harry how they would sometimes find somewhere quiet to sit and Severus would spread out a big blanket he had found. Severus would cast one of the glamours he’d found in his mum’s old unused wizarding books, and they’d be two elegant red-haired ladies sipping tea._

_It was better than any privacy charm ever. Not even Petunia ever realized who they were._

_Sometimes Lily brought scones or other treats from home. Sometimes Severus pinched fruit from the market. Usually it was was just tea, though. Lily liked to drink her tea out of delicate china cups and she favored pink or green dresses that were just as delicate. Severus spent long hours studying his mum’s household manual to get all the glamours just right, to give the china just the right shade of pink, the dresses the right amount of laciness._

_If he got everything just right, if Lily smiled at him and called him “Sis,” then he knew he could put his head in her lap and dream that this was the real world. They were family and everything was all right._

_Most days Lily wanted to do other things though. They’d hunt frogs, or throw stones in the river, or go hurtling off the swings till Petunia threatened to tell._

_He told Harry how many of the seventh-year boys had drawn skull and serpent designs on their arms and bragged that they were pure enough and smart enough and tough enough to be chosen._

_He talked about Orion’s grey face as he stumbled in late at night after another day of looking for Regulus; how Walburga had skipped meals and paced; and about Severus’ own repeated failures to find out what Regulus had done to displease the Dark Lord, and his failure to rescue him. And then there had been the growing knowledge that Regulus was dead. Walburga had refused to touch his room or change the tiniest thing in it, and it had joined Sirius’ room as a memory frozen in time._

_And through it all Severus had known it was his fault. He had sworn to serve Regulus and hadn’t even been able to keep him alive. He had betrayed the Black family’s trust._

_He hadn’t been able to save Lily either, or Albus. He had even let Harry walk to his death. He had betrayed everyone who trusted him. But somehow it was all right because Harry was here listening to him and it was good to lie here with his head in Harry’s lap._

_Severus told Harry how hard it was to be careful all the time, to make sure he didn’t smile too much, or walk wrong, or wear girly colors._

_Petunia had been the first to teach him to be careful. She’d told the whole neighborhood she’d seen him in his mum’s blouse. When he’d got home his father had had his belt ready. Usually it was safe for Severus to go home when Tobias wasn’t drinking, but that day being sober just improved his aim._

_And even Lily had told in the end. She had to have told. No one else at Hogwarts knew. Severus was so careful to never wear anything girly, to never have fancy hair, to project maleness in every way he could. But somehow the werewolf found out._

_He talked about the werewolf, how he’d showed the whole bloody school what Severus was, made his image stand there in a fucking dress and vulture-topped hat, and only the utter thickness of the students kept them all from understanding._

_It felt so good to talk. It felt like breathing deep after years of holding his breath._  
~~~

Harry tentatively put his hand on Snape’s head. His hair was as greasy as it looked, but Harry forced himself not to pull away. Kingsley had been right. There was something likeable here, buried deep. How could Harry let Snape end up in Azkaban after seeing him split wide open and vulnerable like this? He tried to send the signal down through his hand that he was listening, that somehow it was going to be okay.

But all too soon Harry felt Snape’s head jerk under his hand. He was tensing and pulling away. The amicus dose had run it’s course.  
~~~

The little vow glass was mostly clear now, but there were still ragged patches of black in the tiny sky. So Ginny had talked Harry into trying straight veritaserum one last time. He didn’t think it would do any good. There must be something Snape had refused to tell him, even under veritaserum and amicus.

As he waited for the drops to take effect, Harry wondered if he was doing the right thing. He didn’t see what good one more plain veritaserum session would do. Maybe it was time to let go and admit that not everyone could be saved. Wasn’t it the grownup thing to do, to admit that he was wasting his time and move on? Yet he had promised Ginny, and as Hermione liked to tell him, he had a saving people thing.

Ginny kept tapping her foot slightly and at first Harry couldn’t figure it out. Then suddenly he recognized it as the restless energy she sometimes got moments before she entered the quidditch pitch and took no prisoners.

She stared at Snape and said, “Why are you about to swear the Votum Fidelitatis?”

“Clearly you’ve left me no choice in the matter.”

Harry looked up, startled. “Ginny, what are you doing?”

“What is the second reason you are about to swear the Votum Fidelitatis?’

“It is better for me to do so voluntarily than involuntarily.”

Ginny just grinned and said, “Okay then. What’s the third reason you are about to swear the Votum Fidelitatis?”

Snape stared at Harry, then Ginny, and said, “Because I want to.”

Suddenly the vow glass chimed, and when Harry turned to look at it, the last ragged clouds of black were disappearing. A swirl of glittery snow danced across the little sky. Then it was snowing in the room, bright sparkly stuff that landed on Snape’s hair and Harry’s glasses. 

It continued to snow while Snape knelt down and offered the fidelitatis vow that would make Harry his liege lord, and make Snape a liege to the Potter family. Then the snow was gone as though it had never been there.

~~~  
That night, as Harry drifted off to sleep, he thought about the vow Snape had sworn to him. Harry still didn’t know if he fully understand what had happened. He wasn’t sure if it could be understood. Himself, Snape, Ginny-- None of it made any sense, but right now it didn’t have to. He knew that he had finally rescued Snape. He knew that against all odds, Ginny approved of what he had done. 

Tomorrow Snape would probably find a way to insult him, hex him, and make it all his fault. But that was tomorrow. He was warm and happy and tired and, just for right now, everything was good.


End file.
